In All But Blood
by IHeartNealLarkin
Summary: Aramis gets attacked by men who holds a grudge against the King's Musketeers and one of the attackers bear some striking resemblance to one of the Inseparables. Will contain Aramis/whump, protective Porthos, Porthos/HC, badass/Athos, and all that you woul
1. Chapter 1

**~ In All But Blood ~**

**Disclaimer ~ **I do not own any of them just borrowing them for the purpose of this story, I will return them I promise, but I can't be certain in what manner they will be when I do.

**A/N ~** This is what you get when extremely tired and working on another story. I will get back to the other stories I have. It's just something that wanted to be written. I do hope you will enjoy my story. It will set mainly in the universe of the 2011 film and this story is just for fun. Enjoy.

**Summery ~** Aramis gets attacked by men who holds a grudge against the King's Musketeers and one of the attackers bear some striking resemblance to one of the Inseparables. Set a few months after the events of the 2011 film.

**Chapter 1~**

Few months have passed since the coming of a brash young man and his cocky attitude came crashing through the lives of three formally disgraced heroes, disgraced because of a mission had not gone in their favour and they had been discharged from the King's Musketeers. The three Musketeers were also were the well renowned Inseparables, their stories have surpassed them by being told in taverns or even by retired Musketeers, and by their friends.

Their names have even reached the young Gascon's ears, from his father, who was a Musketeer himself, but their names mean little to the young man. As he had gotten to know them during the last few months, he had come to realise that they were more then just a name to him. They had become a family to him and he looks up to them for advice upon any matter that he had believed to be important to seek at the time.

He had learnt a lot from them and he is truly grateful to have met their acquaintances, which of whom became much more then that. The three of them had taken him under his wing not long after their fateful meeting, and he does often ponder why they did, when he was blatantly seeking to make mischief, to make his first mistakes in Paris, and he did not know who they were until d'Artagnan had heard their names. Their names and of their deeds have inspired the young Gascon greatly when he was younger, and of wanting to be like his father.

How could he have foreseen that the three of them, despite of what had almost transpired between them, that they would become the best friends he ever had?

D'Artagnan sees Porthos as that big brother that he had always wanted, he is just as protective and full of a sense of humour, and Porthos is just full of life. There were no other words that could help him to seek, or how describe Porthos and his ways. And despite all of that teasing, the big man also has a big heart, he cares for his friends and he will do anything to protect each and everyone of them. The man is a hero, who likes to dress as extravagantly in clothes that were beyond his pay.

Athos had someway become something like a second father to him, someone worthy to made proud of. A man of few words, who when he does speak, will say words that make sense. Just like with Porthos, Athos is another kind of man who needs more than just one word to describe his nature and just the type of a man, he is underneath that mask of his, that he only allows those closest, and of those he trusts, to see.

Aramis had also become like a brother to him, and he, like the other two of the inseparables, need loads of words to help describe – but what d'Artagnan can describe about the former priest is that he is at least someone who will give you decent advice, he knows what to say to anyone no matter what the situation is.

All of the three make an unlikely pair and yet they co-depend on each other, much like the same, as the sun needs the moon to set, in order to rise again to start a brand new day. And now the three have expanded to make room for one more.

Sighing in relief and in bewilderment of just how much his life had changed, how he had changed and how much he will continue change in the future days to come.

Just to think about his friends, will always make him smile, and he was smiling the broader. As he was just on his way back after spending a lovely morning with Constance and his day could not be spoilt.

He was almost on the homestretch when he had heard a commotion of some kind coming from another street, and he could not stop his feet from leading him closer to the commotion. It was not until he saw what was happening, there were men wearing scarves around their faces, obscuring him from noticing any distinctive features, and they were fighting a singular man – and that man just had to be one of d'Artagnan's friends.

The fight appeared to be an unfair fight, from those that do not know what the Musketeer is truly capable of on his own, and the young Gascon knows, after from observing the way his friends fight and how different their fighting skills, style, are from one another, and that is that Aramis is very dangerous when he wants to be.

Aramis is a kind-hearted man, he is very good at getting others to open up, and yet he is a very dangerous warrior when he wants to be.

Without thinking for the safety for his skin, d'Artagnan brashly ran to aid his friend.

"d'Artagnan, what are young doing here?" Aramis implied the moment he noticed his young friend joining in with the fray.

"Saving you by the looks of things," d'Artagnan breathlessly replied as he kicked one of the attackers right in the family jewels. "Who are these men?"

"Men who apparently holds a grudge against the King's Musketeers," Aramis answered as the last man fell down.

"Are there more men like them?" d'Artagnan asked once more as he sheathed his father's sword, his eyes travelling over the fallen attackers.

"There could be more but it is not unusual to find those who dislike the Musketeers," Aramis said in an honest tone. "The Cardinal's Guards are not the only ones who will actively seek out a fight with a Musketeer, just for the fun of it, and not because of the fierce rivalry that runs through our veins."

Bending over to pull a scarf off one the attackers faces, and the two friends were shocked to see that – the now scarf-less attacker – looked amazingly liked Porthos.

"Does Porthos have any brothers that you know of?" d'Artagnan inquisitively asked Aramis.

"Porthos had told me many tales about his childhood and what he got into, but he never spoke of a brother," Aramis honestly said as he rose back up with a hiss escaping his lips, which d'Artagnan heard as clear as day.

"Are you wounded, Aramis?" d'Artagnan was by the former priest's side in an instant, concern was written all over his face.

"I am fine d'Artagnan," Aramis had said that in a voice that will bode ill, if d'Artagnan were to ask about his friends health.

That was another thing that he had noticed about his friends – d'Artagnan had noticed how incredibly stubborn his friends are when it concerns their health.

"We should leave the streets, Athos and Porthos will begin to ponder on what is keeping us," Aramis stated in a way to deflect d'Artagnan's concern elsewhere.

"What should we tell Porthos about this man? Who is familiar in features and stature," d'Artagnan glanced once more at the attacker who looked like their big friend.

"Let us discuss that on the move, it will do us no good standing here – "

"What happened here?" A new voice cut in, causing the two Musketeers to turn around to see who it was.

Thankfully it was only just Athos and Porthos.

"Men who voiced their dislike towards a King's Musketeer with their swords and fists," Aramis told the two men that had come to see the damage Aramis and the attackers had got up to, d'Artagnan had arrived when there were only one or two still standing.

"And who did these attackers, attack?" Athos demanded as he looked down upon the fallen attackers.

"They had attacked Aramis, I came to aid him, after I had heard a commotion," d'Artagnan said to both Athos and Porthos. "But it would appear that my aid was unnecessary – "

"You did what you can, d'Artagnan," Aramis cut of d'Artagnan's words from becoming a heroic deed that must be told.

D'Artagnan warmly smiled at the former priest, whose pallor was becoming paler, and that was more then enough clues, upon whether or not – Aramis had been wounded in the fight. There was also a minor cut above Aramis' left eyebrow, and some other bruises and abrasions, that the young Gascon was finally just taking note of.

"By the way, Porthos – there is a man who holds some kind of a resemblance with you," Aramis swiftly told the big man, before anyone could ask about him being wounded, which he was, but he does not need their pity, or their concern. "He did appear to me to be the leader of this little gang of cutthroats and marauders – he was also the one to sta – to have attacked me first, unaware."

Aramis had almost told them about one of the attackers, managing to injure his side, the man's sword had glanced off his side, slicing through his black doublet and under-tunic, which inevitably had sliced through his skin, causing him to bleed. He was glad that his doublet was dark enough to hide the blood staining its way through his clothes. It wasn't a bad wound per se, but it did hurt, and also a dagger had stabbed his lower leg.

"Is that so?" Porthos queried, his trained eye had noticed a stain of some sort beginning to spread through the Padre's doublet and hose. "Let me see and then we can get out of here. So, that we could take care of the thing that is causing a stain to spread on your doublet and hose."

Porthos knows Aramis too well for his own good, and it was the same with Athos, he is still getting to know d'Artagnan – but he had already picked up that the lad has all of the major attributes, that sets the three Inseparables apart.

But, to put the other two aside for the time being, yes Athos is like a brother to him – and yet Porthos has spent more time with Aramis. Whenever Athos, and now with d'Artagnan, get pushed he will aide them for sure. But whenever Aramis gets pushed, Porthos will have caused the pusher to have a split head or worse.

Aramis is also very good at understanding the words of which Porthos means to say, he will always come to either one of his friends, if they are going through a tough time. That is perhaps what sets Aramis apart. The former priest had also become more of a younger brother to him.

"I am fin–"

"You are not fine, Padre," Porthos found himself saying so as he eyes once again grazed over his best friends body. "Your face had become rather pale, more so then usual. Would you not agree Athos?"

"Porthos is right, Aramis, you are not fine from where we are standing," Athos' had replied as he observed d'Artagnan for moment – but it was clear for once that the young man is not injured in any form, rather the one who is clearly injured is Aramis – and he gets quite stubborn. "We should leave this place."

Aramis was about to something to counter-attack everyone's comforting concerns for his wellbeing, he never had been comfortable, as his own family – whom he had seen spoken to since he were a twelve year old and that is a tale be told on a later date, as he has no desire to have his friends, his family in all but blood, to have another reason to worry about him – when Porthos cried out, not in pain, but in what sound like a shock, mixed with a surprise, and disbelief.

"Porthos?" Aramis switched his concern for the big man, as he turn around, hiding the grimace that had wanted to show on his face. "Is something wrong?"

Porthos was kneeling in front of one of the attackers, the one who had attacked Aramis first, who was also the main one, out of the other attackers, to have managed to wound the former priest in the side, and to have stabbed a pointy dagger into his lower, left leg.

"Do you know this man, Porthos?" Athos questioned his oldest friend, as he too looked down upon the man, who bears a striking resemblance to Porthos.

"Know him, I know everything about this man – or at least I thought I did. I had not spoken to him since I had decided to join the King's Musketeers," Porthos replied tonelessly.

"Who is he?" d'Artagnan innocently asked the man he was still getting to know.

"He's my brother," Porthos answered tonelessly, with very little emotion laced with it. "We should get of the this street, head home and to attend to Padre's wounds."

"And what should we do with your brother, Porthos?" Athos had asked cautiously. "He did lead his band of cutthroats to attack a member of the King's Musketeers -"

"Leave him, and perhaps after his little stint here, he will learn that it is not a good idea to get on to the wrong side of a Musketeer," Porthos answered with a sly smirk.

"No, don't leave me," a new voice chipped in with a sneer.

Which had caused all four of the King's Musketeers to once again to turn around, and Aramis had almost toppled over that time, but thankfully Athos was there to steady him up. They did not always need words to express themselves – it is complicated.

"Hello brother," said the brother of Porthos in a mocking tone.

.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2 ~**

"Rowan?' Porthos had said in between glaring at his little brother. "What brings you to Paris? You were in Vienna the last I heard."

"I no longer live in Vienna, as you can see, my brother," Rowan spoke with a sneer and he glared at Aramis. "I came to live in the city I was born in."

"Save your breath, I have no desire to hear what you have to say," Porthos growled at Rowan, not liking the way he was openly glaring at Aramis, who was beginning to lean quite heavily against Athos. "You attacked one of my friends, why?"

"My friends, and I, were bored and so we went out to find something to amuse us with," Rowan slyly sneered at Porthos, as he stood back on his feet. "We had no idea that this Musketeer, who wears the Cross of our Lord around his neck, was a friend of yours brother. If we had known we would not have fought him."

Porthos did not know what to think, or even dare to believe, at this moment, he did not even know what to feel. The one person he had believed he'd never seen again has returned. Rowan had been almost killed by Aramis, who is also one of the best duellists in the King's Musketeers, the former priest just falls behind Athos in that line and it would almost appear, that d'Artagnan may eclipse them all in the art form of sword play – but that is all beside the point. The point is that Rowan was dead to him the moment he had stolen his purse and his favourite horse. Rowan had always been trouble, always mixing in with the wrong kind of people, and now it would appear that his brother had become the exact opposite of what Porthos had become.

"You can also stop glaring at Aramis like that," Porthos snapped at what his long lost brother had become. "Come let us get a way from here."

"Forgive me, brother, have I offended you? Yes, I may have stolen your horse and your purse, but surely you can put all of that behind you," Rowan actually sounded sincere when he spoke once again to Porthos.

"Do you not know, Rowan? Do you not know that the last I heard of you, you were in Vienna, yes – but you had died there," Porthos glared at his younger brother. "I have no desire to say anything more to you – and yes… you have offended me even more, disappointed to the point…"

"I hate to spoil the family reunion but we need to get of the streets," Athos did not mean to butt in with the brothers reunion, but what else was he to do. "We also should tend to Aramis' wounds."

Turning his back on his brother, Porthos saw that Aramis looked to be fighting a losing battle with his body to stay awake. He is that stubborn and the former priest was now fully using Athos, like a post to lean on.

"He told me that he was fine when I had asked him if he were injured," d'Artagnan commented ignoring the look Aramis had thrown in his way, as it was a tad scary – who knew that someone with a kind heart could have a look that could kill, or worse have someone already decomposing in their graves, who knew?

"Never trust Aramis to tell you that he is fine, when he is injured," Athos grimly told the young Gascon, as Porthos rushed to help them with their friend, their brother-in-arms, he too was ignoring the former priests glare.

"What about me? I am injured, and so are my friends!" Rowan yelled to get his brothers attention once more focus on him.

"And I will injure you more, or worse kill you, if he dies," Porthos snarled at the pathetic excuse of a brother. "Let's get out of here."

Without waiting for further word, or for anything else, Porthos and Athos gathered Aramis in their arms, supporting him between them; his arms were wrapped around their shoulders.

"I can walk on my own without your aid, thank you," Aramis mockingly stated in such a sarcastic tone. "I have two legs and a heart beat -"

"Tell that to the pavement, which are just begging for you to faint all over them," Porthos dryly quipped in.

"Oh, but Porthos, the pavement is so nice to lay on, it is comfortable and soft," Aramis warmly smiled at his big friend. "Athos, do you not agree about the pavement -"

"You are delirious my friend," Athos sarcastically told his friend, finding it difficult not to smile.

"Only when I am drunk," said Aramis.

"No arguments there," Porthos smiled broadly, forgetting momentarily about Rowan that just goes to show how much he cared for his friends, who are his family now.

Porthos did not even glance over his shoulder, he did not look behind him, and if he had done. He would have noticed the way Rowan was glaring a whole straight through the former priests back, with foul contempt that could bode them all no ill.

No one, but d'Artagnan had noticed the look that the brother of Porthos, was glaring at his friend. And he was disturbed by the look; he will have to tell both Porthos and Athos about this once they have reached their home.

* * *

Rowan is a skilful fighter, who prefers to use his fists instead of using the blade, but even so. A man who openly wears a Cross-around his neck had bested him, and it is making him mad. He would like nothing more to kill the man, this Musketeer and opposed friend of his big brother, for making a fool of him in front of his friends.

He would exact his revenge upon the one who had dared to embarrass him in front of his friends and to steal his brother's concern a way from him. There had been a time when Porthos would have done anything just to keep his little brother safe, but now it would appear to have switched over to his friends.

What he would do to avenge and to redeem himself in the eyes of his men, who already distrust him. Not all thieves are friends with one another, as they distrust too many, to learn that it is all right to trust.

Perhaps, he may have to give Porthos another reason to distrust him. Rowan is fully aware of the fact that Porthos may kill him for what he is planning to do and it involves the one he called Aramis, the one who wears a cross, and the one who had stolen his honour, and his brother.

* * *

Porthos was sitting quietly, with a tankard of ale in his hand, as Planchet is yet to get more wine for his Masters to drink. The fire, which Planchet had lit, warmed his back.

With Athos upstairs with a doctor, which d'Artagnan had fetched, who are tending to the wounds that Aramis had received during his scuffle with a few bandits; bandits that were being lead by Rowan, brother of Porthos.

Not knowing whom the mongrel that was responsible for harming the former priest, Porthos stayed where he was. With his back facing the fireplace, waiting anxiously to learn the extent of Aramis' wounds was and just how bad they are.

Looking up, his eyes were glaring into his tankard of ale, to find Athos walking down the stairs, with the doctor following him into the main living area. D'Artagnan was already in the room, absently drinking some of the ale, he must be in deep in thought as well.

"What's the damage?" Porthos asked, not caring that he sounded a bit rude, the doctor.

"Monsieur Aramis had received a nasty cut on his side, which I had wrapped and sutured," the doctor kindly replied. "The stab wound to his lower left leg has also been treated. Monsieur Aramis will fine after having a few days to rest and to recover, just be glad that his wounds are minor -"

"You call his wounds minor! When he had almost bled to death from the wounds you call _minor_! What kind of a doctor are you?" Porthos glared at the kind doctor.

"Porthos!" Athos reprimanded his friend.

He too may not like the way the doctor had callously described Aramis' wounds are minor. Athos had seen and heard of tales; about men dieing after receiving a small scratch, for one can never know when, or where a sword, or dagger, had been. That is everyone should clean, his or her weapons probably.

But there is no need to be rude about it, when the doctor is only just trying to help.

"Forgive me but I must attend to another patient of mine, who is at their death's door," the doctor kindly said with a sad smile. "Send for me if your friends wounds worsen."

The doctor left them before anyone could say another word.

"Why is it whenever we get hurt, we don't send for a doctor, and yet, when Aramis gets hurt we send for one?" Porthos amazedly said as stared at the spot the good doctor once stood.

"Because Aramis is the only amongst us who knows how to treat our wounds and we do not," Athos wryly replied with a smile to match his tone.

"Well maybe we ought to ask Aramis to give us some lessons on how to stitch a wound without fainting," d'Artagnan voiced in.

"Hah!" Porthos laughed at that idea.

"On a small change in subject," Athos is not normally the one who can express themselves or even to get one of his friends open up – that is usually Aramis' forte. "How are you doing Porthos?"

"Me? I am doing great! It is Aramis whom you ought to ask that question of yours too," Porthos replied with a smirk.

"And you do know how well that conversation will go," Athos sat on his favourite chair. "Where are Planchet and the wine?"

"Planchet should not be too far away," d'Artagnan replied.

"Not too far away I hope," Porthos said with a slight growl. "This ale tastes like something died in it."

"Not one of your farts, I hope," another voice pitched in.

"You should be resting," Porthos quickly told the former priest who had decided to come to down, to dine with his friends.

"Stop being a mother hen," Aramis said in a sarcastic tone. "And I can rest later tonight, it is not yet dark."

"Who are you calling a mother hen, padre?" Porthos smirked at his friend, ignoring the laughter coming from d'Artagnan, while Athos was doing his best not to laugh.

"I think you know who I am talking about," Aramis replied with a smirk.

Porthos was saved by Planchet bumbling his way through the door, with a few bottles of wines and what looked like a leg of ham, in his hand.

"Sorry sirs!" Planchet immediately cried at as he almost tripped over Athos' outstretched leg.

The four friends said nothing more that night, other then teasing each other, not one of them bothered to ask more about Rowan and his history with Porthos, or even bothered to remind Aramis to rest. They were that comfortable with each to others presence to care.

**A/N:** I do hope that you had all enjoyed this latest update of mine and I would like to say thank you all that have been so kind as read and review. Please do not hesitate to check out before you leave and smile.


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